


Wildflower

by uJwArM



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Gore, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uJwArM/pseuds/uJwArM
Summary: “There was light… then just. He was on the ground and no one knew –knowsanything…”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Wildflower

Pale wrists and slim fingers, splayed and slack, is the sight to which Lieutenant Aizen is greeted with upon returning from the Fourth, one seated officer in tow. He pauses at the mouth of the courtyard and the Fourth officer draws to a halt beside him. He surveys the scene, something akin to… _shock_ , unspooling in his gut.

The spectacle is… almost bewitching.

There is already a cluster of Shinigami hovering around the collapsed figure of Hirako Shinji, like gnats drawn to the rot. They blanket the courtyard, fritzing and flickering with bouts of shunpo, some fleeing for aid while the many others stand guard or kneel with the soft glow of healing kidō strung between their fingers.

Lieutenant Aizen surveys the scene with a keen eye.

The Fourth officer has flung themselves towards the contingent of officers, citing their rank and division to gain access to the downed form of the Fifth Division Captain. The officers snap and bark but back off while those who have some modicum of ability for the art of kidō merely shift aside to provide room for the healer to work.

Those who stand guard have fingers clasped tight around the hilts of their zanpakutō, stares sharp and wary. When he finally steps into the courtyard, they view him with something akin to relief, features gone soft and buoyant.

He smiles at them, a bit woodenly, and as he comes nearer, the scent of blood comes swifter.

The sting of bile is as much a shock as the sight that lies before him.

Captain Hirako’s throat is hewn open.

Lieutenant Aizen prudently averts his eyes, instead allowing them to trail up the man’s pallid face, the color stark in relief to the scarlet drowning his haori. His eyes are closed, eyebrows drawn low, mouth slack with pebbles of red at either corner.

The man looks dead.

The 4th Seat has already filled him in by the time Unohana arrives.

_“There was light… then just. He was on the ground and no one knew –_ knows _anything…”_

The Captain of the Fourth Division is as perturbed as Lieutenant Aizen’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Her mouth is a thin slash, eyebrows furrowed, and her reiryoku a hot compress over the length of the barracks.

He allows himself to be crowded to the sidelines, a veritable delegation of Fourth Division officers flooding the courtyard. Many of the Fifth is shooed off, to their collective displeasure. Some complain to the deaf ears of the Fourth, but the majority of the company fidgets on the precipice of the division line, worried, scared, or sick with the cast of blood on their hands.

Lieutenant Aizen observes as the chaos abruptly escalates with the ill-timed arrival of Lieutenant Sarugaki.

Her scream is as wrenching as the gore of Captain Hirako’s throat.

Word spreads.

A Captains meeting is held not a day later, when Captain Hirako has been confined to a bed in the Fourth, neck sutured and suffused with enough healing kidō to drown a regular plus soul. He remains comatose as of present, but to the assurance of the Fifth Division and their acting Captain-Lieutenant, would only remain so until Captain Unohana deemed the man fit enough to move without risk of self-decapitation.

The meeting is solemn.

Lieutenant Aizen stands in place of Captain Hirako, head dipped and countenance placid.

Lieutenant Sarugaki is stood a half-step behind Captain Hikifune, hands balled into fists and face white.

The air is heady, severe in light of Captain Hirako’s tentative recovery in the Fourth.

Captain Unohana beings her report and it is when she is clinically recounting the Fifth Division’s most grievous injury that the previously pinched or pursed faces of those in the hall turn bleak and drawn.

Lieutenant Aizen observes the men and women gathered discretely. Kyouraku is staring at Unohana with a lidded gaze that reveals nor casts so much as a single thought. Ukitake similarly has eyes only for the Fourth Division Captain. Lieutenant Yadōmaru remains stoic in face of the account, Lieutenant Shiba the exact opposite with a sharp frown and dark eyes.

The only other Captain besides his own that is even a third the age of those two, is Captain Hikifune, who looks both shrewd and sorrowful. Her Lieutenant remains uncharacteristically withdrawn, brilliant temper, for once, tamped down.

It likely had to do with her having a front-row seat to the flogged remains of her friend’s throat.

“I will not be removing Hirako-taicho from the medically-induced coma for quite some time. What remains of his neck will need to regenerate enough muscle to support the weight of his head before I can rest assured he does not sever his spine without meaning to.” Her smile is tepid, uncompromising. “From what we have gathered, the laceration was made by a serrated blade, and thus it was more difficult to reattach the nerves. It is uncertain whether he will be able to speak upon his waking.”

With the testimony’s succinct conclusion, the woman retreats towards the queue of Captains to her right, a demur, “That is all, Soutaicho” resting the case.

The Captain-Commander lets the silence pool and froth.

It is Captain Shihōin who speaks first, with tempered, cool tones. “Any lasting reiatsu? You didn’t mention any transfusions and from what I suspect Captain Hirako hadn’t even unsealed his zanpakutō.”

Lieutenant Aizen bows his head in acquiescence, smiling sedately. “You would be correct, Captain-san. I believe my Captain had not even the chance to unsheathe his zanpakutō, rather.”

An uncertain quiet renews the tension.

“Did not have the time or refused to do so?” hems Captain Kuchiki.

Lieutenant Shibi blinks, “You’re insinuating one of the Fifth did this?”

Lieutenant Sarugaki looks incensed at mere thought, mouth opening.

“It is unlikely,” Captain Ukitake placates easily.

Lieutenant Iba tosses her nose, arms coiled around her chest. “Captain Hirako is on the brink of death, nonetheless. We should not limit ourselves to those of the Fifth Division. This could have very well been an intruder—”

“There were no alarms—”

“Do not be so certain of Soul Society’s security—”

“Maa, maa.” The argument breaks off before it can properly form. The stilted quiet turns docile in the wake of Kyouraku’s grinning visage. Canny, grey eyes regard those stood in the debriefing hall, inexplicably heavy. “Suffice to say, neither assumptions has to be _wrong_. But before we go around accusing the Fifth, how about we ask Aizen-san all about it, hmm?”

For a split moment of a second, Aizen thinks he has been found out, uprooted and foisted into the air by a Captain older than he can comprehend, stronger than he could ever be. A man he had been unduly careful in never making an enemy of.

“Ah, well,” Lieutenant Aizen rubs the back of his neck, smile nailed in place. “There really isn’t much to say. The 4th Seat, who had been in Captain-san’s presence at the time, said little.”

He reiterated what the man had hesitantly recounted; of the light and the sudden mystifying appearance of their maimed Captain, freshly wounded and bleeding all over the place.

Again, there is a deep-seated air of displeasure, discontent and worry roiling through the chamber. This time, it is accompanied by a faint aura of bafflement.

“A white light?” Captain Aikawa parrots. “Could it possibly be the light of a Senkimon?”

“Those in the courtyard were blinded temporarily,” Lieutenant Aizen counters, a frown for once puzzling his face. “It could have been reiatsu, perhaps? But no…”

The man subsides, to the piqued interest of Captain Hikifune. She picks up where he left off, fascination dulled by sober reticence. “There have been recorded displays of reiatsu manipulation without the added presence of the physical nature of said reiatsu,” she says, obvious in her gesturing of the Captain-Commander and then Captain Unohana.

There’s a spark of _something_ in Lieutenant Aizen’s staid gaze.

For the remains of the meeting, conversations turn in favor of those with a proclivity for the curious. They chime in with increasing fervor, interest in the _how_ and _what_ of what had happened fueling the swelling discussion like the crushing tides of a sea, loud and suffocating – especially so for one small Lieutenant.

“SHUT UP! _Shutup-shutup-shutup-SHUTUP_!”

A brief hush follows her eruption.

“Hiyori…” Captain Aikawa murmurs.

“I—I…” Lieutenant Sarugaki looks around, wild-eyed and frenzied. She snarls and with a flicker of shunpo, disappears.

Captain Hikifune stares at the spot her Lieutenant stood seconds before, before turning violet eyes unto the Captain-Commander. “I apologize on behalf of my Lieutenant. She is taking it… rather hard. If I could be dismissed to ensure her safety?”

The Captain-Commander cracks open an eye at her. He nods. “Dismissed, Division Twelve.”

The discussion following Lieutenant Sarugaki’s outburst is quiet and solemn. The meeting wraps up shortly thereafter. The Second Division will be the primary investigator of Captain Hirako’s assault. The Fifth Division will cooperate, with Lieutenant Aizen standing in place of Captain Hirako for an unknown amount of time, until his Captain has recovered enough to resume his office duties.

The remaining Division are to be on the lookout, a task small indeed judging by the already well wary men and women exiting the chambers by its end.

The Captain of the Fourth lingers at the Captain-Commander’s seated self and Lieutenant Aizen does not pin his lips at the insinuation that there is _more_ to know of his Captain’s condition that he will remain ignorant to.

He accepts the doled out condolences from the odd few who confront him outside the meeting chambers and subsequently, takes his leave.

The Fifth Division is a mess upon his return.

There is a hush over the lot of land, officers scurrying to and fro with silent feet and tucked chins. The courtyard remains a littered field of bloodied bandages, discarded wrappers, and emergency medical equipment scrapped in the wake of restarting Captain Hirako’s heart.

A precise arc of red decorates the lawn, likely from whence the Captain’s carotid artery had been severed. Under the daylight, the crimson has faded brown, alongside a rusted patch of grass where the man had promptly fallen.

Besides that, the rest of the ground remains undisturbed. The barracks are kempt, the gardens tended, and the shallow ponds still as glass. Not a stone is turned, and Lieutenant Aizen frowns at the curiously untouched division grounds, something akin to unease creeping up his spine.

He discards the feeling.

The 3rd Seat has finally arrived and he has much to discuss with the boy.


End file.
